Dale VS the Six Foot Cockroach
by pyromoosepoop
Summary: Dale faces off against a cockroach six feet tall... or does he...


The sound of the doorbell rang throughout the house. A couple exchanged looks. "It must be the exterminator," the woman said.

The man simply nodded. After standing up, he walked to the door. It swung open by his hand, revealing the man outside. It was none other than Dale Gribble, fully decked out in his bug extermination gear. Silently, Dale took a cigarette into his mouth and lit it."Where's the bug?" He asked emotionlessly.

"In the basement," the man said. He moved out of the doorway, giving room for the exterminator to walk in. Dale put one foot into the house, but he was then stopped. "I have to warn you, this infestation is huge."

Dale raised an eyebrow in question. "You said there was only one."

"And that's the truth; I assure you! But the bug, it's larger than anything else I've ever seen in my life!"

Dale's eyes narrowed in determination. "How large? Three inches? Four!?"

"Six..." the woman said.

A small smirk spread across Dale's face as he put on his sunglasses. "Don't worry, I can deal with a bug no matter how big. Now show me the basement."

The man obliged. Once they got to the basement door, the man took a step back. "I'm sorry, but this is as far as I can go. I-I just can't bring myself to -"

Dale put his hand up, interrupting the man. "Don't worry, you don't need to come with me. It's a lone man's job."

The man nodded. Without further interactions, the brave exterminator marched down the basement stairway. At the bottom, he flipped on the light. Dale's mouth became agape with shock at the sight. His cigarette fell to the floor, spilling ash on the stone tiles. In front of him stood a cockroach six feet tall. Its pure black back glistened as it ran beneath a falling apart couch.

Dale shook his head. "Get it together Dale," he said to himself, "it's just a cockroach." He took another cigarette out of his pack and slid it in between his teeth then lit it. "Just a cockroach that needs exterminatin'."

Dale grabbed his hat and pulled it down, making it have a firmer grip on his balding head. He grabbed the straps of his extermination pack and adjusted them so they sat sternly on his shoulders. He was ready.

Dale ran to the couch, and, with all of his might, he kicked it over. The roach was ready to run, but Dale had other plans. He stomped on one of the roaches six legs, one closest to the bug's beady eyes. From his pack, Dale pulled out a tube of chemicals. He slid a surgical mask like gas mask onto his face and pointed the tube at the bug. "Mr. Cockroach, you're bugging me. Say hasta la vista, BUGGY!" he yelled. The trigger was pulled.

Within a millisecond after Dale pulled the trigger, the bug flailed out its wings, knocking the tube of chemicals out of Dale's hand. It fell to the cold floor and broke in half. Dale glared at the roach. "Clever girl," he said and took out his phone. After a quick dial, Dale said with a lifeless tone, "Boomhower? She's a fighter. I need backup." He closed his phone and threw it behind him.

True terror could be seen in the roach's pitch black eyes. It retracted its leg that lay under Dale's foot. The professional exterminator saw the look on the bug's face and got ready to attack. "You can crawl, but you can't hide from Dale Gribble!" Dale yelled. He screamed a war cry filled with determination, rage, and a dash of fear. He jumped onto the roach, straddling it and wrapping his arms around its head.

The roach hissed in fear and started running around the basement at full speed, but it did nothing to fling the grown man off of his back. Dale was too determined to let go that easily. Knowing this, the bug reared like a horse, clawing at the air with the four unused legs and opening his wings.

This caused Dale to fall to the floor with his weight breaking the other contents of his extermination pack and simultaneously making his gas mask fall off. Dale's eyes narrowed and he moved his cigarette to the other side of the mouth without the use of his hands. "Mr. Cockroach, now you're bugging me."

Dale stood up and took his pack off then threw it across the basement. He meant business. The bug was still on its hind legs. It raised it's top two legs as if they were hands and made fists.

"So it's a fight you want, ay? Well, it's a fight you get!" Dale yelled. He lunged ruthlessly at the roach. It became a full on fist fight between Dale and the bug. Six-foot man versus six-foot cockroach. As the punches flew back and forth, blood was being shed. Sweat was flying. The roach started crying.

Dale stopped attacking the bug. He wiped blood away from his mouth. "What? Was I too much for you? Well, there's more where that came from," Dale said through heavy breathing.

"No, please, I have so much to live for!" The roach cried. He had a deep, mysterious voice.

Dale froze upon hearing the bugs words. "W-what?" He asked.

* * *

On the other side of Arlen, Texas, Boomhauer gingerly placed a box in the shotgun seat of his car and he buckled it in.

"Boomhauer, what the hell are you doing?" Hank asked.

"I'ma transport a ding dang ol' backup man. Dale wanna backup man," Boomhauer answered.

Hank sighed. "What's Dale doin' now?"

Boomhauer shrugged. "Man, It's a dang ol' Dale, man, I tell ya what."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I'm coming with ya, to make sure Dale doesn't do anything stupid," Hank said. He unbuckled the crate and sat in the shotgun seat, then put it on top of his lap. "What's even in this box?" Hank asked.

"You know, man. A dang ol' backup. Dale talkin' all serious man," Boomhauer said.

"Yup," Hank agreed.

* * *

Back in the random house's basement, Dale and the cockroach sat on the floor. "So then my slip in slide broke on the hottest day of summer!" The roach wept as tears slid down his entire body.

A single tear rolled out of Dale's sunglasses. "That day when it was 124 outside?" he asked.

The bug cried harder. "Yes!" it wailed. "The government did it to me on purpose, too! Americans think that just because I'm a cockroach that I don't have feelings! Like I don't have dreams! I'm human too, why don't people see that!"

"It's not just the American government, it's all the governments!" Dale said.

"Exactly!" the roach agreed, "I'm going to attack the governments of every country for all the pain that they've caused me. My parents would not die in vain!"

A single tear rolled out of Dale's other eye as he stood up. "You don't have to do it alone, my good man."

The bug wiped away some tears. "What?" it asked.

"I know five minutes ago I was trying with all my power to kill you, but things have changed. You deserve more than this, we all do! I'll help you take out the government. We, together, could stand a chance. So, what do you say..." Dale held out his right hand and smiled. "Partner," he finished.

The bug reached out and shook firmly on the exterminator's hand. "You've got yourself a deal," it said and smiled back.

Suddenly, the door swung open and it hit the wall beside it. At the top of the stars stood Boomhauer holding a Glock.

"Boomhauer, no! I made a huge mistake!" Dale cried.

Boomhauer was unfazed by Dale's pleas. He shot the gun. Its bullet hit the cockroach square in the heart, spearing out its innards and killing it instantly.

"NOOO!" Dale wailed. Tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees. He started picking up the disemboweled organs of the roach. "H-how could you?" Dale choked.

"I just pulled a ding dang ol' trigger man," Boomhauer replied.

Hank came to the doorway. "Dale, what the hell?"

"Hank, He-he's dead. W-we were going to make everything better, but you monsters killed him!" he choked.

"Damn it Dale, stop crying. The poor owners of this house have been hearing you talk to yourself for half an hour, and they're getting concerned," Hank said. He started walking down the steps to his crying neighbor.

"No! You'll never get me alive!" Dale screeched. He ran to the backpack he removed earlier; Hank watched in disappointment as Dale removed a plastic bottle labeled 'travel chloroform'. Colorless sweet smelling liquid falls out of the bottle as Dale poured it onto the sleeve of his bright orange jumpsuit. "I will avenge you Mr. Cockroach!" he yelled. The sleeve, now dripping with both cockroach entrails and toxin, moved to in front of Dale's mouth. He took a large whiff out of the cloth; seconds later the exterminator fell to the floor unconscious.

Once Dale fell, Hank was at the stairs' base. He sighed; "God damn it, Dale," Hank mumbled. He then he looked at Boomhauer, who was still in the doorway. "I'll get the head, you get the legs?" Hank suggested.

"A dang ol' no way man. You can take the legs, I tell ya what man. A little ol' trigger man. A pew pew, it's dead, you know what I mean man? I get the head," Boomhower argued.

"Whatever," Hank acquiesced, "Just help me get him out of this basement. It smells like spilt chemicals in here.

"Yup," Boomhower agreed. He put his gun's safety on, put it in the crate by the basement door, then walked down the stairs. The two men picked up Dale and started walking up the stairs, leaving the cockroach to decay alone in the cold, dark basement.


End file.
